Rain
by Lucky Meryl
Summary: A short fic about Wolfwood. Ever since he was little listening to Bible stories at the orphanage, Nicholas wondered when the world would be washed clean, and what the rain would feel like.


He heard about it when he was still in the orphanage. _Rain._ According to the Bible it rained for over a month once on Earth and it flooded the world. God washed away the land that had become so corrupt by humans with water. He destroyed life with the essence of life. Even at a young age, Nicholas couldn't help but wonder if the world had become corrupt enough for it to flood again. Did God even exist on Gunsmoke? Or did He stay on Earth? As the years went by, one thing became clear, God certainly wasn't with _him_.

Melanie explained, as best as she could, what the rain was. It came from clouds, and it fell to the ground. It was water that the sky sucked from the land only to throw it back down. On Earth, it came from oceans and rivers and somehow made it into the clouds just as steam rises from a kettle. And when the clouds were full, they would drop the water back onto the humans and the Earth and it would make its way back to the oceans and rivers from which it came.

There were no oceans or rivers on Gunsmoke. Not even a puddle. So, of course, there would be no rain. In spite of that, however, there always remained a sliver of hope, that one day the world would be washed clean. And personally, Nicholas always wanted to feel that first drop on his cheek.

What would it feel like? Would it be cold like ice? Or warm? Did it taste the same as the water they drank? Would it be as satisfying? Moreso? It didn't matter. He'd never know.

He hoped it was cold. Sometimes, long after he'd left the orphanage, after a long day, Nicholas would stand under the running water in the shower, turned as cold as he could make it, close his eyes and dream he was standing in the rain. He'd ignore the stinging of the wounds on his chest and back left from Master Chapel and pretend it was the sensation of being washed away by God's rain.

Just like it does in all children, however, those dreams, quickly and painfully, faded from his memory. A shower was only a means to wash away the blood and dirt of the day. The sky only held the sun. God had abandoned Gunsmoke, or had never been there to begin with. There would never be a rain on that dry and dusty land. Nicholas was certain, if he didn't die from training under Master Chapel, he'd certainly dry up under the planet's suns.

Then, one day, the world didn't feel so dry anymore. The world didn't feel so overheated. He'd met someone who made the planet a little less barren. In his presence, he no longer felt as though he were burning under the cloudless sky, and instead, he felt warm. Perhaps he was the one thing keeping the world from being too corrupt. Maybe he was the one God refused to wash away.

Just like the rain, this man was unbelievable and confusing. Just like the rain, Nicholas couldn't understand him, what he was or how he lived. And just like the rain, Nicholas wanted, desperately, to believe in him. Someone once called Nicholas his 'sworn ally.' No. It was much more than that. Nicholas was not on the same level as him. That man was his teacher. His aspiration. His everything. Nicholas was only a disciple, struggling to learn his ways. Even if his words seemed impossible to live by, he wanted to try. If, for just one brief instance, he could see through that man's eyes and live by that man's teachings, maybe he could believe in the rain again.

He didn't want the last thing he saw to be that man frowning. He wanted to feel his smile, but, perhaps that was too much to ask for. Maybe a drink was all he would get, and he'd settle, as long as he never left that man's side.

He'd never know if it was illusion—his vision had begun to blur—but as the warmth of the liquor left his throat, his head turned to the sky, he'd swear he was watching rain fall for the first time. It was filled with color. He cursed the sky. Would he really only see this once? Was that fleeting moment the only chance he'd get? He felt the droplet roll down his cheek and found himself bitterly disappointed. Raindrops were warm when they hit your face. And they tasted like salt.

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 **A/N:** Yeah just a short fic about Wolfwood that's pretty effin' sad. I haven't forgotten about OI, I just haven't had the muse for it. I am trying though but it always sounds weird when I start to write it. I'm trying though I promise.


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